


swing

by Girbeagel



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Gen, Horror, Killing, Mystery, POV First Person, Thriller, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23314615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Girbeagel/pseuds/Girbeagel
Summary: I’ve just swung even more and heard that irritating screech. All alone. Nothing changes after death, you know.





	swing

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Качели](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/571930) by Хироко Азумэ. 



There was a swing in front of my house. Old one, maybe even older than my grandparents. It was standing in the backyard and screeched each time the wind was blowing. I hated that sound. Screech, like a long, painful moan, pierced my ears, gave me goosebumps. I couldn’t sleep at night because of that annoyingly creepy sound, and in the afternoon, I was watching the swing slowly swinging for long-long hours. I hated it, was scared of it, but something attracted me and made me look in the window for a big amount of time.

I didn’t notice the things that surrounded me. Or, to be more exact, their absence. Either it was raining, snowing or the sun was shining — I was staring at a swing, leaning on a windowsill. I didn’t notice the smell of death that was surrounding me. 

I don’t even know when my mother and father died, when my grandparents did. When my brother died. I’ve just never noticed that. My sight was aimed at the dirty glass of the windows, which was showing the backyard.

It seems that my grandparents were buried a long while ago. But how and when did they die? I don't even recall. My mother’s and younger brother’s bodies were in the kitchen. Their postures were unnatural. What in the world did happen? There was a huge argument one day, I guess. And where is my father? Did he just vanish?

But somewhere further I heard the sound of a swinging rope. It’s hardly heard, but I am still his daughter after all. Father’s body wasn’t far from our home and was hanging on the nearest tree. He couldn’t stand it anymore.

I didn’t notice it. I haven’t noticed the moment since my home became a graveyard. 

At some point I realised that I was staring in the window all this time. I was looking somewhere, but not at the swing. I could only see a frightful skeleton through that dirty window glass. It was wearing my favourite dress. 

Anyone who came across my house ran away by just seeing the swing moving on it’s own. Don’t blame them, they don’t know the truth. 

I’ve just swung even more and heard that irritating screech. All alone. Nothing changes after death, you know. Ghosts are attached to the place of their death, and if somebody finds this notebook, I will still be there – swinging in the swing and looking at you from the window.

**Author's Note:**

> i've usually translated from english to russian, but this time it is the other way  
> thats is my fellow mate work, check out her russian original work if you kno the language, luv u bby <3


End file.
